Nora steadied herself after the bloody, unexpected scene she had just witnessed.
Her breath came unevenly, sharp inhales that burned her throat. The smell hit her next, iron-heavy, thick enough to taste. Blood soaked into the sand beneath her feet, darkening it in uneven patches, as if the ground itself were bleeding.
This wasn't the first time someone had been killed in front of her. Normally, it had been gunshots, but this time, she had seen a head fall from its body.
The image replayed without permission. The clean arc of the blade. The brief moment where the head was still there... still a person, before gravity took over. The dull, wet sound when it hit the ground.
And she wasn't safe yet.
Her muscles stayed coiled, every nerve screaming at her not to relax, not even for a second. Her eyes darted to the blue-haired boy, still holding the sword in his hand, studying it as if he were admiring it.
He didn't look rushed. He didn't look shaken.
That was what scared her most.
Is he here to save me or kill me?
"Who are you?" Nora called out, her voice harsher than she intended.
She spotted the executioner once bravely mounted, now slumped in a corner, his body folded wrong, fancy robe with blood. Her gaze shifted despite herself, dragged to the head and the headless body on the ground, still clutching the axe that had been intended for her.
The axe lay just out of reach.
I have to get my hands on that axe if I want to defend myself, she thought, her mind racing as she calculated distance, timing, and how fast the blue-haired boy could move if he decided she was next.
"Gram," the blue-haired boy said, not answering her question.
He lifted the sword slightly, turning it so the light caught along its edge. The blade looked impossibly clean for something that had just taken a life.
"Said to be forged for a Viking named Sigurd, who used it in battle and earned the title Dragon Slayer. But in truth, it was Odin's sword.. a Norse god's weapon." His voice was casual, almost conversational. "In the end, though, they're all just myths. I still can't believe Pine imagined this sword and brought it to life. Too bad it won't last."
As if on cue, faint cracks of light pulsed along the blade, like fractures in glass that hadn't broken yet.
He looked straight at Nora.
"You're welcome."
Her jaw tightened.
He moved a little closer, ignoring the headless body on the floor as if it were nothing more than furniture in his way. The sword scraped against the bare sand as he walked, the dragging sound sharp and unmistakable, sending a chill up her spine.
Metal on sand. Closer.
"I said, who the hell are you?" Nora repeated.
She matched his steps without realizing it, moving sideways, inching toward the headless body. Every step was careful, deliberate, her weight balanced so she could spring back if she needed to.
"Whoa, calm down with the voice, will you?" he said, lifting one hand in mock surrender. "Before I tell you who the hell I am, we need to get out of here... before the who actually comes to finish the beheading."
That sentence sent ice straight down her spine.
Nora was already by the headless body.
She grabbed the axe forcefully from the corpse. The handle was slick, nearly slipping from her grasp as the corpse's neck still gushed blood, warm and fresh. The sudden heat startled her more than the sight.
Her hands were now coated in red, thick and sticky, adding to the splash from earlier. She tightened her grip, forcing herself not to think about whose blood it was.
With the axe in her grip, she aimed it at the blue-haired boy.
He stopped.
For a split second, she thought she saw disappointment flicker across his face.
"I don't want to brag, but…" he said slowly, "…my weapon could cut that bloody axe of yours with just one strike."
He tilted his head toward the corpse.
"You saw what it did with the head."
He paused, eyes shifting past her, scanning the area as if listening for something she couldn't hear yet.
Nora kept the axe trained on him, her arms tense, shoulders burning from the effort. She didn't lower it. She didn't blink.
"Are you from the future?" Nora asked.
"What?"
"You're wearing modern clothing, and speaking english which doesn't fit in this era." Her words tumbled out faster now, her thoughts barely keeping pace. "So either you're from the future, or you isekai'd. Which one is it?"
Her head throbbed. The world felt unreal, like it was constantly one step out of sync.
The teenage boy didn't answer right away. His eyes swept the surroundings again, jaw tightening this time.
"Look, lady," he said finally, "I'm not from the future, okay? And isekai'd… well, maybe I have been isekai'd…"
So, I am not the only one. she thought.
"But I'll answer all your questions later," he continued. "First, we need to get to the safe zone before they come."
"What are you talking about?" Nora demanded. "And who are they..."
Before she could finish, the ground began to shake.
It started as a low tremor beneath her feet, subtle enough that she almost thought she imagined it. Then the sand rippled outward in waves, like water disturbed by something massive beneath the surface.
A sandstorm erupted.
Wind roared to life without warning, violent and suffocating, swallowing the bloody earth in seconds. Sand sprayed across Nora's body, stinging her skin and forcing its way into her mouth and nose. She turned her face away and raised her arm, shielding her eyes as grit scraped against her exposed skin.
The world vanished into noise and motion.
Gradually, the storm subsided.
The wind died down in uneven gusts, leaving behind an eerie silence broken only by the soft hiss of settling sand. Nora lowered her arm slowly and blinked through the sting in her eyes.
The area cleared.
Then she saw it.
Two eyes, glowing white.
They hovered in the dust like twin moons, unblinking, fixed on her.
Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the axe, her pulse pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears. She shifted her stance, feet digging into the sand, ready to strike if the glowing figure attacked.
As the last of the sand settled, an average-looking creature stood before her.
Its entire body was made of sand, molded into a rough humanoid shape, grains constantly shifting and sliding across its surface as if it couldn't quite hold itself together. Yet it stood upright. Watching them like some statue.
Nora's breath caught.
She quickly searched for the blue-haired boy and found him beside her, sword in hand, posture relaxed but ready, as though this was exactly what he'd been expecting.
"Okay," Nora said, a smirk tugging at her lips despite the tension, "I don't know who you are or what that thing is.. but in every fantasy world like this, there are always creatures like these. And I have been expecting them."
The past five days had been boring.
Painfully boring.
It felt like she'd been trapped in a dull imitation of life, a world that refused to acknowledge what it was supposed to be. When she first opened her eyes after dying, it had taken time to accept that fantasy-transmigration was actually real.
She had expected danger. Monsters, Dangers, ranking or maybe some system ding.
That was why she'd shown patience before stabbing anyone.
If I'd known killing Jakob was the key to unlocking more fantasy tropes, she thought, I would've killed him on the first day.
Just as Nora prepared to strike the sand creature, muscles tightening for the swing....
The blue-haired boy suddenly slashed her axe aside.
"What the....?"
The force knocked her off balance, the axe jerking violently from her control. Nora stumbled, barely catching herself before she fell.
She blinked, staring at him.
He flashed a wide grin.
Then, without warning, he turned toward the sand creature, dropped his sword at his feet, and shoved her forward.
"…" Nora was completely speechless.
Her mind went blank as her body lurched toward the creature, boots digging into the sand as she struggled not to fall flat on her face.
"This is the criminal you came for, right?" he said calmly.
The sand creature's glowing eyes flickered.
"Take her," he continued. "She's all yours."